


you're in all my lyrics and 'verses

by geode



Series: RIP the WIPs [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Asgard, Drabble Collection, Existential Crisis, Ficlet Collection, Ice Cream Parlors, Kid Fic, M/M, New Year's Kiss, New Years, Post-Apocalypse, Pre-Slash, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geode/pseuds/geode
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My Frostiron ficlet collection! {see series for more info}</p><p>01 texting - 02 boarding school - 03 university - 04 loki in asgard - 05 loki in crisis - 06 icecream shop au - 07 new year's kiss - 08 the apocalypse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. anything but battleships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20Q isn't just for fuckboys wanting you to take your bra off, or at least Loki hopes so or he's giving out the wrong impression.
> 
> a/n high school frostiron will not release me welp

wanna play twenty questions?

**...Was this intended for someone else?**

is that a no?

**We're in class, if you haven't noticed. Also, we've never actually spoken in person before.**

hey i'm tony, nice to make your acquaintance. you go first

**I know your name, idiot, I just don't know anything else.**

christ, can't a guy satisfy his craving for 20Q anymore without revealing his lifestory? don't play if you don't want to, i just thought you looked bored

**Got one.**

excellent! A, V or M

**Vegetable. Have you been observing me then? That's somewhat weird.**

is it edible? (i do not observe, i merely am observant)

**Yes. (Still makes you a creep.)**

is it green? (and why converse with a creep? oh right, because the alternatives suck ass)

**Yes. (What a phrase that is.)**

does its plant have flowers? (what, sucking ass? welcome to my world)

**No. (...You suck ass?)**

NO WAIT NO not in the literal sense thatd be very weird

**It would.**

your sass levels are astounding, my friend

**Are we friends?**

harsh. i’m trying extraordinarily hard here

**At what exactly? Because it can’t be the game; you’re barely trying at all.**

who uses semi-colons in notes???????? marry me

**Again, we’ve never spoken.**

don’t need to, it’s love at first correct punctuation

**Honestly I’m very surprised you’re bothering with apostrophes.**

you shouldntve said that

**I retract my compliment.**

wait that was a compliment?? sounded like a thinly veiled insult to me ngl

**It’s hard to surprise me.**

challenge accepted


	2. board out of my mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bastard. Very typical of him.
> 
> a/n the sad, sad pun says it all

_"See you in five months!"_

That was it.

He literally left me on the doorstep of some douchey boarding school, armed only with an entrance form and a trunk. Just assuming the paperwork would all go through okay and I wouldn’t be chucked out onto the street. And that I wouldn’t be beaten up by a six foot protein shake addict and hung from the rafters in the main hall by my tie. Or maybe he was hoping for that.

Bastard. Very typical of him.

Still, live while you’re living and all.

The building looked nice enough. The brickwork was... symmetrical... After a few moments straining to see the bright side of things, I sighed and began hauling my worldly belongings up the thirty two steps leading to the double doors.

"Stark," I said to a man behind a glass divider. "Tony."

The guy was wearing an earpiece, but it wasn't switched on. Didn't seem to have a battery. Was that even a real—?

"Shh!" he pointed to the _no that’s definitely a fake_ earpiece accusingly and continued looking pensive, nodding occasionally. Ah, I gotcha. I had to chuckle.

The guy pretended to sign off and glared at me over his specs.

"What's so amusing, boy?"

"Oh, nothing, sir. I'm Tony. New kid."

He sniffed, rustled a few papers around on his desk as if searching for something. I extended my index finger in the direction of the rather obvious eleventh graders list right under his nose.

"It's there."

He snapped his head around to burn me with his eyes, picking up the list. I swallowed. Let them think they have the upper hand.

"Ah yes. Stark."

The name dripped with venom. Already? Jeez; record.

"You're late."

"Huh?" I blinked.

He gestured for the form in my hand, which he signed in three places and put in a drawer to his left. Then he handed me a timetable and a map and told me to leave my case in the hall.

"Go. Geometry. Next bell in—" a shrill sound, not unlike a scream, erupts from the very walls “—go!"

So I went. I was still late.

 

"God, JARV, it was terrible! They all stared at me like I was an UO," I groaned into my pillow that evening.

The other guys in my dorm were most likely in the games room, chatting me down over a table football match. I was alone. It was heavenly.

"With admiration, awe and fear then, sir?"

I snorted. "Yeah right. At least I got homework."

I pat the glorious pile of education next to my thigh, grinning. "I get triple Mech on Thursdays!"

"And eleven lessons of mathematics a week, sir." JARVIS added, a rising intonation in his voice. "And thirteen of your classes are ones you share with Mr Laufeys-"

I shoved the tablet computer under my pillow, muffling and quickly ceasing JARV's exclamation.

Best not to head down that road.

 

The week went a lot like that first day.

I thought about writing to Howard but I'd have nothing to say to him. I did call Steve — twice. He's fine. Of course he would be. Who'd miss me?

Surprisingly, I managed to go three days without running into Loki again.

He was standing in the chem corridor this time, leaning against the exposed brick wall with a textbook balanced on his knee. His hair had fallen over his eyes and every so often he'd twitch his head to flick it away. Every time he did this his nose crinkled a little. One of his long fingers was tracing the text on the page.

No one was looking at him, and that perplexed me. I couldn't stop.


	3. to not so much fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony trips over. That's it.

"I'm so sorry! Oh god, are you okay? I don't know what I was thinking, I was just walking and- can you get up? Should I call someone? Christ..."

At some point during their overreaction, Tony had tentatively opened an eye. After blinking stupidly a couple of times, he makes out dark hair (long) and green eyes (inhuman green, whoa). After a few more, the brightness of the light strip on the ceiling calms down and clarity ensues.

He's hot.

Much to Tony's embarrassment, that's the first thing he notices about the guy. He has the cheekbones of a god (and Tony has only ever read about people having attractive cheekbones in vampiric teen-romance one-time-wonders. Not that he'd read Twilight.). Nice eyelashes too; really great contrast to his pale skin. His hair brushed his shoulders. Dresses well-

_Christ, what is wrong with you? You're mortally wounded, remember._

Tony coughs and sits up. The man seems relieved he's able to do this, and rocks back on his heels although glances at Tony's elbow-area guiltily.

"It's gonna bruise badly," he says sheepishly, wringing a wrist.

"Yeah," is all Tony can reply. The man's cheeks (shut up, brain) go red, almost as if he's a blank canvas and somebody spilled ink on him, and isn't _that_ a classy articulation of Tony's thirst. He looks down, bites his thumbnail.

"Let me help you with that," Tony offers. They stare at each other.

"The books?" the man suggests, pointing to his feet where, lo, there are some books. Tony looks down.

"Uh huh."

Goddamnit. He has no game.

The hot stranger grins, which is somehow equally reassuring and embarrassing because _oh, he knows_. God fucking shitting fucking damn it. Shit.

Tony smiles back weakly. _What a brilliant first day_ , his inner monologue drawls, sarcastically and for some reason in a British accent, but the sarcasm fades to something like sincerity when the stranger winks at him as he hands over the spilled textbooks.


	4. immortal providence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asgardians get their Timers on their thousandth birthday, right around their emo phase.
> 
> a/n this is just Loki... Loki-ing about the day before he gets his Timer. expect no mythological accuracy or even substance.

"The Queen requests your presence in the Halls," Aejl pants, leaning against a spiral-patterned pillar to catch his breath. "That was fifteen minutes ago. She hadn't anticipated your not wanting to be found."

His words are bitter: he hates running, and Loki so often makes him do it. Damn the one who decided he should be the prince's server.

The addressed looks up from his book, radiating innocence. At least, as much innocence as a man can radiate in leather, silver spikes and dark-rimmed eyes.

It had in fact been twenty three minutes since Frigga first called, which he's rather proud of, but who would know? He built his own time-teller and has shown no one. They never appreciate his work anyway.

"I'm sorry," he drawls, too sincere for it to be sincere. He stands somewhat reluctantly from the granite step, tucking the book in his pocket next to his heart. _Rooke was about to arrive on the island, too._ The serving boy follows him through the archway and down the corridor, muttering many a four letter word.

Loki laughs, tugging off his gloves now he's inside. "Wash your mouth out,"

"Wash your hairgel out," Aejl retorts, " _My_ , Syr, is that rock solid?"

Loki turns and winks, before slipping into a narrow path to his left, the complete opposite direction to where he's supposed to be going.

"The Halls are that way..." Aejl starts, then shrugs as he watches the prince saunter away like a dark-furred alley cat. Wearing eyeliner. “I hate you,” he calls after him, matter-of-factly and not particularly venomous. Loki spins on his heel and bows gracefully on the turn, not even stopping, but grinning wide.

Thank the Gods he’d be off his hands soon. Well, Aejl supposes he should thank love.


	5. staring down myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki's kind of dying, Natasha's kind of helping.
> 
> a/n this is the best song to have a crisis to i can vouch for that

_I've become what I can't be_

 

"Have you looked at your life recently?" Natasha says, and it's one of those things you can only say while OneRepublic is distracting two-thirds of your brain.

"Rather not," Loki half-shouts back in kind, raising an eyebrow to cover up his minute wince.

"That's exactly where the problem is then," Natasha says, looking at him with a weird intensity that means she noticed the wince. "We have three minutes and twenty two seconds to fix you, boy."

"I don't need fixing," Loki snarls.

"Honey, everyone needs fixing these days."

And these one-liners sit easily in the air among the other lines and lines, so Loki doesn't dwell on how true or untrue that may be.

"What do you want to me to... re-evaluate?"

"I know you like being on your own,"

"Check."

"But you can't surely like being... completely alone, all the time."

"...Check mate."

"Why don't you put yourself out there?" and it's an innocent enough question, but Loki has to hiss out a laugh, and he wants to cry, very suddenly and briefly - just a sting. Natasha's face is open and easy, like this is something she can really do something about, like there's even an answer to that.

"Oh, there's so- I can't- no one, no one _likes_ me, no one wants to spend their downtime with me. I don't like me, above all else, and I bring nothing to the table, I read things people have only ever planned to read and I can't talk to strangers and don't do small talk and don't drink and I-"

Somehow, in saying too much, Loki had trivialised how bad things really were: now they had been reduced to panicked babble, and he was grateful, if a little disappointed at missing his shot too.

"Hmm." Natasha says unhelpfully. She taps her fingernails on Loki's metal bed frame by her sides, looking at him sharply.

"You don't like you?" she says at last.

"'Course I fucking don't." Loki replied; in his head it was dark and cutting and sneered, but it came out flat; uneven.

"Then don't be you," she says easily and it's possibly the most useless thing she's ever said; maybe the _only_ useless thing she's ever said.

"And how would I go about that, pray tell," Loki drawls.

The edge of her mouth twitches in the hint of a smile. "Rewrite yourself. New script, new character. Scrap Loki Odinson. Fuck 'im."

Loki looks into her dark eyes and curls his fingers into fists. Then releases.

He cocks his head ever so slightly, murmuring, "Fuck 'im."

The song ends.


	6. not quite summer not quite a fling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He thinks his mum may have suggested this job as a joke.
> 
> a/b ice cream shop AU based on my life, except for the whole love interest thing.

It's not like attractive people don't come into the shop - in fact the predominant demographic of _Ice Blue_ customers is attractive couples on dates, reinforcing the rom-com lifestyle they seem to lead for the sole purpose of making the entire world envy them - but that's the thing, it's normally _couples_. Not that there's anything wrong with treating yoself; Loki's a firm believer in doing whatever the hell you want, and whenever someone comes in by themselves he always makes sure he gives them a bit extra, 'cause they always feel like kindred spirits. Whatever. The thing is, it's notable when a hot person comes in alone, because they could've just grabbed a rando off the streets who would've been perfectly willing to accompany them. It's maybe only happened twice in Loki's memory, so when it happens between Rush Hours 2 and 3 on Friday afternoon, he takes notice. (In his defence, Thor had asked him "How's the love life?" yesterday and, after hitting him with a book, he'd been thinking about his love life ever since.)

The guy is Loki's age but he doesn't recognise him at all, which is weird because there's only one sixth form nearby and Loki has the downright pleasure of knowing every idiot in the place. The guy also, in the order Loki notices: is short, wears glasses, has a quiff-thing that seems to have merely happened rather than been sculpted, is wearing purple trainers, has a loosened tie on, looks very cheerful, and very tired. And of course, he's hot and by his lonesome.

(He doesn't know what it is, but some people just have something about them that makes him notice them more, like a strong sense of personality that is evident immediately. Some people right off the bat just seem more interesting than the other ninety nine percent. It's not love at first sight or some shit like that - some people in this one percent aren't even particularly objectively good looking, but this whatever it is _makes_ them: it makes you take notice.)

The best part is, Loki can have this moment all to himself, 'cause he's the only one out front at the moment, and the guy is the only customer.

"Hello, what can I get you?" Loki says as he reaches behind himself for the alcohol hand wash.

"Hiya!" the guy says. "You alright?" He grins across the counter at Loki like he genuinely wants to know, and only starts looking down at the labels when Loki nods.

"Yeah, thanks. Nice weather for business." he says, rote. The guy hums in reply as his eyes trace the options. Loki notices that his tapping fingers are covered in pen marks and something that looks like paint, and a few indiscernible words curling down the wrist. Busy day for him too, then.

"I think I'll have a waffle cone with honeycomb and - oh, white chocolate! I've never seen that before, what's it like?"

"Uh," Loki stalls, trying to think back to when he last had it a few weeks ago. He tries his damnedest to reign in the part of him that wants to say, _Well, it's like white chocolate_. "It's quite sweet, and uh,"

"Sorry, stupid question, really." The guy makes a face. "I'll just-"

"No, not stupid, I'm just crap at describing tastes," Loki blurts. Too late he realises that probably didn't come across as particularly professional.

The guy grins, and then laughs this giggly bullshit laugh that makes Loki join in. "Not good in your line of work, mate," he replies easily. His fingers have stopped tapping, and he's leaning across the counter like he's talking to a friend. Who _is_ this kid?

"Doesn't matter, actually," Loki defends his honour; he spins around and grabs a tiny neon spoon from the box next to the fridge. "'cause you can try them."

"Oh my God, awesome," the guy exclaims.

 _You twelve year old,_ Loki doesn't reply. He opens the counter and dips the spoon into the white chocolate tub. He hands it over with a flourish that as he'd hoped, makes the guy laugh again.

"Oh, it's good," he reports after a second. "Not sure it'll go with honeycomb though."

"Yeah, I normally suggest pairing it with the salted caramel," Loki agrees. "Or toffee, if you don't want any more, like, chunks."

"Toffee sounds good, I'll take it easy today," the guy concludes, and it take Loki a second to realise that he'd actually made a decision.

"Coming up," he says, and sets about shaking the water from the scoop. "Any... accessories?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd do hats and jewellery and things but absolutely."

 _What a fucking dork_ , Loki thinks fondly. Kindred spirit indeed.

"Shut up - sprinkles?"

"Do you have those fudgey things?"

"Fudge flakes? Sure," Loki adds one to the masterpiece. "Will that suffice?"

"That looks scandalously delicious, man," the guy affirms.

"That's three seventy then, please."

Exact change is handed over, for which Loki likes him even more, and he takes the first lick of the honeycomb side right there at the counter. "Mmm, Christ on a cupcake, I love ice cream," he murmurs.

"So do I," Loki can't help but smile.

They guy looks over at him, grinning. "Perk of the job, I guess, everyone's always happy to see you."

"Well, I've never heard 'Christ on a cupcake' before, but yeah, pretty much."

"It was nice to meet you, anyway. Thanks for letting me try the white chocolate one."

"No problem."

Just when Loki thinks - oh shit, they might be having a moment, this attractive person might actually be _flirting_ with him a teeny bit - Mrs Johnson comes in and the slightly intimate atmosphere shatters.

The guy startles like he'd forgotten he was in a shop and that's what happens in shops, people come into them, and then turns sheepishly back to Loki. "I'll - see you then."

Loki swallows, hoping it wasn't just something to say. "Yeah, enjoy."

"Oh, I will," he replies, with a hint of that sleazy food voice he'd put on before. "Thank you!"

Loki nods at him a little awkwardly as he bounces out of the still-closing door.

Mrs Johnson moves up to the counter. "Hello, love," she greets him, and then gestures after the attractive guy. "What a nice boy! A friend of yours?"

"Just a customer, actually," Loki corrects her, squirting some more alcohol wash on his hands. "But yeah, nice."

"I think I'll have the raspberry today, if you've got it in, thank you, love."

"Yep, you're lucky - we've nearly finished the last tub until the start of next month."

Loki finishes his shift uneventfully, and as he's unlocking his bike he thinks about the honeycomb-caramel guy and lets his mind wander into a fantasy where he and Loki are one of the rom-com couples that go on cute dates and make out on the beach.

Then a seagull shits on his rucksack, and he takes that as a sign to stop daydreaming about AUs of his own life and get the hell home before Thor burns the house down trying to make dinner.

 

The next time the guy comes in is Tuesday just before close, this time wearing a _Boy From the Dwarf_ shirt that makes Loki wonder how his list of positive attributes can keep getting longer.

"Hello again!" he says, and God, Loki had forgotten how generally enthusiastic he is.

"Hi," Loki smiles back. He's been vaguely hoping to see the guy again all week, and now it's happening he's gone all bloody shy. "What can I get you?"

"I think I'm emotionally prepared for that white chocolate one now," the guy announces.

"Oh, _emotionally_ prepared?"

"Yes, emotionally prepared."

Loki fights his grin and gestures to the cone stacks. 

The guy considers for a moment. “You know what, fuck it. Give me heart disease.”

“…Again, not one I’ve heard before,” Loki manages to get out before he starts laughing.

“No one matches me in turn of phrase,” the guy says, and Loki looks at him sharply because – is he imagining it? Is he listening to Hamilton so often that he’s projecting it into perfectly normal conversations? Probably.

“Never- never mind,” the guy is saying, waving it off. “Just a stupid quote from somewhere, but yeah-"

“Did you just insinuate you were the love of my life?” Loki blurts, and then regrets it instantly because _no, Loki_.

The guy is momentarily confused, and then he takes his hyperactivity to level two, hands thrown out, smile blinding. “Oh my God! Another theatre kid, in the flesh!”

“Ah, I wouldn’t go that far,” Loki replies, flushing from the attention. “Anyway, for all you know I could just have a fetish for American politicians.”

“God, I hope not.”

“Just the one.”

“Okay, you can have Ham, as long as I get Angelica.”

“Get?”

“As the love of my life.” Loki’s heart falls, because alright, he’d been getting his hopes up but the guy was obviously straight.

“Uh, sure.”

“Unless I can have two, in which case I’ll take Laurens too.”

_Well, that’s a development._

“The loves of our lives can’t be in love,” Loki points out, smiling.

“Oh, I _like_ you,” the guys says. Loki realises he hadn’t made a single move towards fixing the ice cream. He realises immediately after the first realisation that he doesn’t care in the slightest.


	7. turning point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New year, new Tony.

Three- Two- One-

_Boom!_

Thor roars triumphantly, raising his beer bottle to the suddenly exploding heavens before spinning around to smash his lips against Bruce's (who does not look as into it as he is, which: fair enough, he's pissed as shit). And okay. Okay. Crap. Now Tony has approximately 1.3 seconds to decide whether his life is worth changing. He really should've prepared for this, why the  _hell_ didn't he prepare for this.

On all sides, couples and not-even-actually-couples are kissing in the name of the Forever Alone Meme, and it's so fucking typical that they ended up slap bang in the middle of it, as if to emphasise some cosmic point. They're side by side, him and Loki, pressed together in the midst of the writhing throng of hammered dickheads in shitty costumes. They came purely for the fireworks. Neither of them have a Bruce.

And it would've been fine, Tony would've been perfectly happy (well) to sit it out another year - the momentary aftermath-bit of feeling, for a single moment, that you're really, truly alive; the turning point, when you feel completely indestructible and tend to do reckless bullshit - because at his core he's a total coward. He could've quietly refused to take part. He could've exhaled, leant over, said the right words, refrained from acting on his emotions ('cause who the fuck does that? come on) if he hadn't looked over at Loki within that 1.3s slot, out of sheer habit of looking at him.

Loki was gazing up at the sky, awful knitted hat lopsided, eyes wide, smiling  _ever_ so, ever so slightly - fucking enthralled, man.

A Roman Candle goes off which Tony only sees because it happens on a smaller scale in the reflection of Loki's eyes, and: he does it. He just fucking does it, because he can't _not_ , right then. God. That's not a good evolutionary trait, not being able to stop yourself.

He tugs on the farthest side of Loki's stupid hat, reeling him in, and the last thing he sees before their lips touch is Loki's confused expression...

Oops.

Never mind. New Year's is a good enough excuse for anything, and it's going on, regardless of all things, so deal with it, world. It's not even a proper kiss, just pressure, but Tony is pleased because it actually managed to cross a boundary that wasn't quite real either - like, he didn't simply try to kiss him on a Saturday night during Monopoly, which would be way too forward and awkward and  _no_. But it wasn't anything less what it was, now that'd it'd happened. It could be taken a number of ways, exploit any number of its nuances; the lines were blurred or however that legendarily bad song went. _Nope, brain, if you dare get that in my head—_

Tony pulls back, grinning even though he wholly expects Loki to be looking vaguely disgusted. Can he get a hell yeah and the Scouts' badge for bravery.

"Happy New Year!" he yells over the noise of humans and dynamite.

Loki is making a goldfish face when he comes into focus, and then a Catherine Wheel goes off and Tony sees that he's blushing.

_Holy shit._

He- He may have struck gold here.

_Holy-_

"You too, dumbass," Loki returns, suddenly beaming. He grabs Tony's face in both hands and, well.

Basically neither of them remembers anything after that due to the horrendous quantities of alcohol they'd just consumed kicking in, but judging by the waking-tangled-together-on-someone's-sofa... Yeah.

 

(He heads to the bathroom down the hall to find some toothpaste, and bumps quite literally into a stumbling Bruce as he's leaving Thor's room; the guys looks mortified and goes an unusual purple shade, and Tony remembers suddenly that this is meant to be surprising.

"Oh, you...? Cool, yeah... good for you..." He does a poor show of it, and gives up immediately. "Honestly, I thought you guys were already, y'know."

The purpling worsens. Then Bruce happens to glance back to the sofa where Loki is visibly wearing a Stark Industries shirt. Tony braces himself for some kind of reaction.

In Bruce's defense, he tries. "Oh, uh... you...? You...?"

Tony bursts out laughing, making his dehydrated head hurt like hell.

"Yeah, I kinda thought you were too," Bruce admits.

"Science bro senses," Tony says, and holds out his fist. Bruce, reluctantly, bumps it.)


	8. apocoloki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he's fourteen, Loki brings on the apocalypse.

When he's fourteen, Loki brings on the apocalypse.

It pretty much goes how the books said it would, with fireballs and fountains of blood and giant insects and shit. By the end, God decides he fancies babysitting another Universe for a bit and fucks off; everyone's beamed down to Hell except Loki himself and his best friend Tony, who'd both overslept after a Being Human marathon.

 

"Sorry about all this," Loki says to him one day a couple of years later, gesturing to the barren wasteland stretching out around them as far as they can see. They're sunbathing on the hood of Tony's car, eating chips, and have been for several hours. Life's good.

"S'okay," Tony reassures him, turning over onto his front for an even tan. "You weren't to know the Gatorade would explode like that."

"I did know."

Tony hesitates. "Well, I'm sure you had good intentions."

Loki nods because of course he didn't, but he's a lazy bastard and prefers dozing to discussing- well, anything really. That's all he's willing to say on the matter.

 

Later that evening, they stumble across a guy wearing five coats and apparently crazy from dehydration, and apologetically knock him out when it becomes clear that he recognises them from the Newsflash! Demons! things.

This has happened a few times. Usually when survivors are discovered they're hugged and cried at and then promptly knocked out (their signature move) because Tony seriously can't deal with that crap: easier to leave 'em by the side of the road with some of Russia's finest exports than lug them around and feed them and protect them et cetera et cetera- Christ, he's tired just thinking about it. But when someone realises who they are, they noramally start trying to kill them, so they don't leave them the vodka.

And okay, they're not actually demons, or at least Tony isn't and he doesn't really want to ask the one person he's in the good books of whether he's the spawn of Satan.

 

"Ooh, Gatorade!" Loki exclaims in Fucking Nowhere, KS. They've been in Fucking Nowhere about four months, and honestly it's far less stressful than the coast. No people, no problem, he always likes to say. Or was it no money? Either way, there was none of it.

Tony pokes around in the instant food section of the store, determined to stick to his plan of eating healthier and getting that summer bod.

"Noodles are a vegetable, right?" he calls across to Loki.

"Course, idiot. Don't cook 'em though or you'll lose the nutrients."

The dude's a wealth of knowledge.

He grabs like ten packets, and whatever dried food fits in his backpack. He finds a single dusty can of baby carrots too, which he considers eating for all of two blocks before he has to throw it at someone trying to jump him.  
   
   
For Tony's sixteenth birthday, or at least what he reckons is his sixteenth birthday, they hunt down the most expensive car in the south and drive it to the nearest ravine and push it over the side. When you're lawless, your thrills kind of end up like this.

For Loki's sixteenth they burn a house down.

 

A year or so later, in the winter, there's a storm one night - the wind is terrible, whistling all the way through the winding corridors of their mansion to the living room, where they're sprawled on the antique carpet next to the fire, reading. The previous owner had a shit book collection for how rich he seemed to be: it's all niche nature books and incomprehensible scientific journals where more than half the page is taken up with footnotes. Tony doesn't miss school in the slightest.

There's a particularly shrill howl from outside, and then a great crash overhead that makes the whole room shake and a rush of cold air come in from somewhere above them. The fire is blown out like a match. It sounded like a tree had fallen through the roof, but the thing is there aren't actually any trees nearby.

Loki sighs. "That's my ride," he says, shutting his book.

 

Tony was an only child, so for all he knows everyone's brothers were like this, as in: a viking, from space, with a magic toolbox that helped him fly.

"You sure you don't have a Sonic Screwdriver?" he asks one last time. "Because that's really missing an opportunity, if you don't mind me saying."

(He doesn't.) "You must tell me all about this driver when we return to Asgard!" he bellows, despite the wind having completely stopped now. Oh yeah, he also controlled the weather. Like Pudge.

"Will do, man."

Loki rolls his eyes like it's a boxing move. He's packing away a messenger bag's worth of miscellaneous crap (mainly Gatorade); Tony literally owns nothing at this stage so he's good to go. After a couple minutes, he runs out of things, or maybe patience, so he hauls it onto his shoulder and steps towards Thor.

"Grab a bicep," he tells Tony as Thor starts to swing his impractically huge hammer. Tony does, because he's curious about what percentage of this guy's body is muscle mass. Sixty five?

"Oh, brother," Loki adds in a raised voice as the hammer picks up speed and starts whooshing. "I'm fucking starving, can we get burgers on the way home?"

"Burgers?"

"Yeah, remember I told you about them once. Bread with meat?"

"Ah, the square cheese meal? Of course! It has been many moons."

"So many fucking moons."

Tony pipes up, "Isn't home a different planet?"

"Yup."

"How can we get food on the way home then? Wait, is there a planet for that? McDonald's World?"

Loki laughs and peers around Thor's hulking frame. "Oh, this is gonna be so great," he assures him, and they're off.


End file.
